Medical Time

Today (yesterday, really) I had appointments at 9:30 and 10:30 for pre-operative stuffs. All the morning things were done with expedition, we left the house with 50 minutes to make it to Brigham & Women's, and were at the first office we needed to visit with five minutes to spare.

Whereupon we entered Medical Time.

In Medical Time, all times are later. Since I am trying to be efficient and effective, I had lots of documents ready to hand. This disconcerted everyone we encountered. We actually made it from the consent form review over to the pre-operative center with 20 minutes to spare, which was good, as it turns out the hospital's information about me was 20+ years old. So I went over to Registration and fixed that, which meant I was right on time.

Then we waited half an hour.

I then handed the nurse practitioner my medical history, my pre-surgery clearance report from my primary care (with all the meds on it), my Healthcare Proxy, and the consent form from my first visit.

Turns out the EKG was bad, so they had to redo it. But! In a true triumph of efficiency, the pre-operative center outfits their consulting rooms with lab chairs, and a lab tech with both an EKG machine and a basket of blood-drawing supplies roams the halls. Everything is done in the room, while the nurse practitioner is continuing to work on getting all your meds into The System.

(Oh, funny moment. She asked what my blood pressure usually was, and I told her, and then said, "If you're going to take it now, could we do the urine sample first?" "Oh no, we don't need a sample, I'm so sorry, I know the form letter says we do, go right down the hall and take your first left, it's on the left." Result: BP was 116 / 64 with a pulse of 69.)

I also found out the results of my echocardiogram. I have the heart of a workhorse, surprise, surprise.

And even with me being hyper-prepared and all this efficiency, we still weren't out of there until 12:30. So, we got some lunch, and then schlepped UP one flight and through three different bridges between buildings and past two incorrect elevator banks to the correct ones, then DOWN three floors to the "Friends Center," where they offer cancer-related goods and services.

Because it turns out the support bras I bought on Saturday aren't the "approved" support bras (and why no one told me this is a subject for further inquiry), which are provided through insurance (for one bra) and free for the second because everyone wants to be nice to women with breast cancer. (I am not really happy about this. I prefer to be asked about what I need rather than have someone gratuitously assume I can't pay for a bra.) Also included was a nice canvas bag (purple, thank goodness!), a humilating pink Boston Red Sox baseball cap (you should hear what our local sports radio says about people with pink caps), and a whole bunch of very sobering literature. What to eat when you have advanced cancer and so on.

We finally got home at 2:45. So much for morning appointments! But I cannot complain, as every question I had was answered and quite a few I hadn't thought to ask as well. Still, it doesn't bode well for the day of surgery.

Oh, and I have to make two phone calls Monday, one to the surgeon and one to the hospital, both to confirm that the surgery is, in fact, happening.

I go back on Friday to have the volume of my arms measured, in case of lymphedema (warning, very scary pictures). Oddly, this is done at the Friends Center instead of by the doctors, even though they prescribe it and want it done. Apparently, because treatment is massage therapy which is done at the Friends Center, it doesn't count as "medical". With any luck, my 10 AM appointment will be over before dark.